


five foot something with the skinny jeans

by Batman



Series: jaywalkers [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, ushijima wakatoshi is a gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batman/pseuds/Batman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a long silence after that. Really long. Koutarou’s standing there like an idiot, Sawamura’s standing there like an asshole, Sugawara’s standing there like another asshole, and Akaashi’s standing there like the human version of a Black Keys song.</p><p>Then Akaashi speaks again. ‘Bokuto-san, you have one thousand three hundred and seventeen pictures of me on your device.’</p><p>Today on ways not to start your study break: if you lose your camera, it WILL be found by the dude that you took pictures of all night at the party. (Or, Sugawara Koushi observes with great amusement as Bokuto Koutarou’s life falls to chaos around him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	five foot something with the skinny jeans

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [метр восемьдесят два и джинсы в обтяжку](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11091072) by [MsFlaffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsFlaffy/pseuds/MsFlaffy)



> HERE IS EPISODE 2 OF THE BOYS' SUMMER ADVENTURES. I was going to call this "Rest In Fucking Pieces, Bokuto" but I decided to keep it this way. (The title is from One Direction's "Midnight Memories" because I am rubbish at coming up with my own titles.)
> 
> ALSO, NOW WITH THIS [SMASHING](http://zoethehumansloth.tumblr.com/post/134425459832/the-thing-about-being-a-dj-though-is-that-you) FUCKING ART FOR AKAASHI BY MY FRIEND ZOË I LOSE MY SHIT EVERY TIME I LOOK AT IT

‘LITERALLY—’

‘Probably not literally—’ Ushijima cuts in.

‘PROBABLY NOT LITERALLY ONE RULE A PHOTOGRAPHER HAS TO FOLLOW,’ Koutarou roars, waving his spaghetti-wrapped fork and getting some drops on Ushijima’s forehead—he wipes them distastefully—as he has the breakdown of his _life_. Or, as Sawamura would put it, the week. ‘AND THAT IS DO NOT LOSE YOUR FUCKING CAMERA.’

‘Look, I’m sure someone’s picked it up and kept it safe somewhere. You’ve updated your status, haven’t you? Whoever has it will return it,’ Ushijima says, putting the tissue away. ‘Don’t fret so much, Bokuto, you lose like three things a month.’

‘Look, I know you have this cute idea in your head that the world is filled with angels and little moon babies or whatever, but that thing cost me a fortune and whoever has it has most likely sold it off already.’

‘No one’s that mean, Bokuto.’

Koutarou lowers his fork and looks at Ushijima. This right here’s why he and Sawamura need to stay with Ushijima, like, all the time. Ushijima literally—probably not literally—has no idea of how the big bad world works. Ushijima would marry someone if they made puppy eyes at him. (No, Koutarou and Sawamura actually tried it the first time they met. That story’s going to sell for millions when Ushijima’s published and famous.)

‘No one’s mean, Wakatoshi,’ Koutarou says sadly, reaching across the table to pat Ushijima’s hand. ‘But we are college students. We want money. Lots of money. All the time. As much as possible.’

‘But—’

‘Shh,’ Koutarou says even more sadly as the _Game of Thrones_ episode endings of his camera come to mind. Someone could’ve sold it off. Someone could’ve dismantled it and sold the parts off. Someone could’ve—he gasps.

Ushijima raises an eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘What if,’ Koutarou says, staring at his spaghetti. The noodles are flopped all over the place, kind of like how his brain feels right now. _He_ should’ve been the poet here, not Ushijima. Anyway, the noodles are flopped around all sad-like, and he feels the same. ‘What if someone _turns it on_?’

Even Ushijima's not dense enough to _not_ understand that. He chokes on his juice, and reaches for a tissue again, realizes it’s the sauce-y one, puts it away, and reaches out for another one. ‘Oh my God. If they turn it on—’

‘They’ll see—’

‘The approximately three million—’

‘Hypocritical exaggeration, but yes—’

‘Pictures—’

‘I have—’

‘Of—’

‘Akaashi Keiji,’ Iwaizumi the Angry Review Guy says as he settles down in the seat beside Ushijima, ‘has your camera, Bokuto. The guy from the performing arts institute across campus? He asked me to let you know.’

Koutarou drops his fork.

●●●

 ‘I think it’s cute,’ Koushi says for the third time in the past ten minutes. ‘And you know everyone loves Bokuto Koutarou, right? The girls always want him to take pictures of them. Rumor has it you cannot look bad when Bokuto takes a picture of you.’

‘That’s okay,’ Akaashi says, pinching the bridge of his nose, ‘but did he have to take exactly one thousand three hundred and seventeen pictures of me to ensure that I don’t look bad when he takes a picture of me?’

Koushi stifles a laugh into the palm of his hand. To be fair, Akaashi’s concern is kind of validated by the fact that there are, indeed, one thousand three hundred and seventeen pictures of him on Bokuto’s camera. To be fair to Bokuto, however, Akaashi is as pretty as they come. Even right now, when he’s about two inches from issuing some kind of arrest warrant for Bokuto, he has a sweet blush. Koushi finds it kind of ridiculous that _he’s_ known as the pretty one when Akaashi is practically an angel. He can’t exactly blame Bokuto for taking a few dozen pictures. Or a hundred dozen pictures.

What their friend is not aware of is the evil behind the cute face, etcetera. With a reputation almost as formidable as that of Iwaizumi the Angry Review Guy (who they just sent to inform Bokuto of his camera’s unfortunate choice of hands to land into), Akaashi is pretty terrifying. Especially when he’s surprised and kind of creeped out and mostly flustered.

‘You haven’t even seen him yet,’ Koushi tries. ‘Give him a chance. He’s cute.’

‘Yeah, I’ll have his lawyer say that to mine,’ Akaashi huffs, opening the lid of his laptop for about the fifteenth time since morning to go through the pictures again.

They _are_ good pictures. Fantastic pictures, even, all from last night’s party at Vertigo. In their low contrast and washed out lighting, Akaashi looks amazing. The thing about being a DJ, though, is that you always look cool. Akaashi’s rocking the…needle…thing…machines…whatever it is that DJ’s do, with a lot of eyeliner and what Koushi calls sex hair and Shimizu calls an abandoned rat’s nest, and some fierce eyebrow action going on.

‘I suppose,’ Akaashi says after a while in a voice that Koushi knows very well. ‘It’s not exactly the principle of the act that I am against, just that...well, I never knew of it. They’re...quite nice. He could have told me.’

Koushi, in general, is known to be a kind person. Gentle, of a sweet disposition. It is to maintain these kind impressions that he covers another laugh with his hand and asks, ‘Would you have _posed_ , Akaashi?’

‘Abso-absolutely not!’ The pink spreads from Akaashi’s ears to his neck. ‘I… I merely mean... ’

‘Just kidding,’ Koushi chimes. ‘What do you plan to say to him?’

‘I...don’t know. I will improvise.’

Perhaps Bokuto Koutarou might not actually have to be worried about Akaashi. Not if the ever-increasing blush is anything to go by. 

●●●

‘He must’ve seen them. He has to have seen them. I mean, my luck could get worse. He’s seen them all.’ Koutarou pauses mid-walk to throw another glance at his friends. ‘I’M GOING TO DIE, USHIJIMA. HE’S GOING TO SLASH MY GUTS OUT WITH A SWORD.’

‘Akaashi Keiji,’ Ushijima says, ‘is a calm soul. I’ve seen him around. You can rest assured he’s not going to slash your guts out with a sword.’

‘Really?’ Koutarou doesn’t really like to listen to Ushijima’s moonbaby philosophies, but sometimes (like when he really wanted to believe that the hot assistant Tanaka chick from Kuroo’s finance class was in love with him...boy, was he off the mark with that one) he makes exceptions. Like right now. ‘I’m safe?’

‘Oh, no, no,’ his dear friend says. ‘I just said he is a _calm_ soul. He might poison you or push you off a cliff. Die you definitely will.’

‘I see.’

Well, it isn’t as if he’s had an unfulfilled life or whatever the fuck it is that Ushijima writes about. He did have a pretty smashing party last night, not only at Vertigo but after too. And, like, he has a video of Tsukki going “bubble butt, bubble bubble bubble butt” for _three minutes and forty seven seconds_. That’s literally the best thing to have on his phone when the police comes to check on his body because it’ll take some of the suspicion off Akaashi. He _knew_ riling Tsukki up to have those Jägerbombs was a good idea. Plus, there’s also the whole thing where he worships Akaashi’s face and that loose white V-neck he wore last night so dying at the hands of the very guy is a pretty good way to go.

Speaking of Tsukki, though, he hasn’t responded since his pissed-off cursing in the morning after Koutarou basically blackmailed him into his shoot. Koutarou hopes he hasn’t killed himself over his missing headphones or something. That would really suck. He needs Tsukki for the shoot. And before Tsukki, he needs his fucking camera.

‘I suppose neither of you would be interested in accompanying a dying warrior to his last battle?’ he says, looking at Iwaizumi and Ushijima.

‘Not in the least,’ Iwaizumi says.

‘I have to go to _Le Petit Bumblebee_ to pick up croissants,’ Ushijima says.

‘I have never seen two bigger, more useless _worms_ —’

‘You know how terrifying Sawamura’s boyfriend is, right? He’ll be there backing Akaashi up.’

‘Sugawara isn’t Sawamura’s boyfriend,’ Koutarou says automatically, just like Sawamura himself. Minus the dumbass blushing, though. ‘Anyway, I refuse to be scared of a guy with a beauty spot.’

‘They say that’s his power source,’ Iwaizumi says darkly. ‘Gecko Tooru—’

‘Damn, I could ask Gecko Tooru for help! Is he on holiday too?’

‘Gecko Tooru is never on holiday, and go do something by yourself, for once.’

The idea of consulting Gecko Tooru is tempting, but maybe Iwaizumi’s right. Some things a man must face alone, and some things he must not. Like the wrath of Tanaka Saeko. _That_ should be faced by, like, fifteen men. And a bulldozer.

‘I’ll be off, then,’ he says, raising a hand in farewell. ‘If I’m not back again this time tomorrow—’

‘I get your movie collection.’

‘—carry on,’ Koutarou sighs. ‘Carry on.’

And well, if nothing really matters, God of Disc Jockeying Akaashi Keiji can’t be _too_ mad.

●●●

Daichi seems to find the situation just as amusing as Koushi did, excepting that he is much louder about his amusement.

‘I mean, Bokuto’s always been a mess of a man,’ he’s saying right now as Akaashi continues to glare at his screen. ‘But this is really terrible luck. This is just awful.’

‘I think Sawamura-san would not laugh so much if he were in my place,’ Akaashi mutters. ‘Or Bokuto-san’s.’

‘If I were in your place I’d demand ransom.’

‘Don’t put ideas in his head, Daichi.’

‘Sorry, sorry.’

Koushi sighs and looks down at his phone. Bokuto had texted him about half an hour ago, asking if Akaashi was with him and if he was “really pissed off”. Koushi thinks his pessimistic assumption that Akaashi must have seen the pictures is rather cute. Actually, he thinks this entire situation is rather cute, right from Akaashi’s nervous fingers tapping on the table to Bokuto’s unnecessary fear, to Daichi’s booming laughter in response to all of it.

 

 **Me [18:13]**  
don’t worry, he’s not furious or anything. it’ll be fine.

 **Bokuto [18:14]**  
u sure?? i mean i can come another day its just a camera

 **Me [18:14]**  
i thought you had a shoot to do.

 **Bokuto [18:17]**  
i mean i can do it with my phone lol

 **Me [18:17]**  
bokuto, you are a photography major.

 **Bokuto [18:18]**  
srsly he isnt mad?? is this a trap are u guys gonna kill me

_**Me [saved as draft]**  
of course not, you’re daichi’s friend._

**Me [18:19]**  
we won’t kill you! come over.

 

He wonders how this is is going to play out. On the one hand, he’s heard a lot of tales about Bokuto in conjunction with Daichi’s regretful memoirs of past parties, and having the boy hang around the apartment every week proves most of them. He could very well barge in and demand his camera, which would _not_ please Akaashi. (And a displeased Akaashi is not a good idea.) However, his obvious (and not unfounded) terror of facing Akaashi rules out that possibility.

The idea of a subdued Bokuto is too strange to think about, though, so Koushi gives up on it altogether. Instead, he turns to Daichi and raises an eyebrow.

‘You think he ever shows up on time anywhere?’ Daichi shoots back.

Koushi sighs and concedes, but the doorbell rings just then.

●●●

 **Sweetie Pie [18:19]**  
we won’t kill you! come over.

 

Well, like Akaashi’s definitely dressed to kill. Koutarou thinks that he might have an actual condition because he’s discovered that it’s basically impossible for his gaze to be on anyone else when Akaashi’s in range. Like, Vertigo isn’t exactly a small place, and sure, that DJ cockpit thing is way up there with its own lights and shit, but it’s still kind of a problem if he can’t dance with other people anymore because he’s too busy taking pictures of just one kid. Plus, it’s gonna put him in trouble with the Vertigo people if he forgets that he was employed to take pictures of _everyone_.

Anyway. Apparently this Akaashi Keiji Only focus applies to daily life too. Because when Sawamura opens the door, Koutarou only has a second for his shit-eating grin before he notices Akaashi sitting at the coffee table and feels like those rival Pokemon trainers must feel when they spot the main player in the forest in the Nintendo games. Like, when those exclamation marks pop up over their heads.

Blue jeans, black V-neck— seriously, he’s got to _stop_ with those— and if that’s a goddamn hairband in his hair Koutarou is going to do an about-turn and leave. Sawamura drags him inside before he can, though, and slams the door shut.

‘Hey, man,’ he sings. ‘What brings you here on this fine day?’

Koutarou manages to look away from Akaashi (who hasn’t looked up from his laptop but is so _red_ in the _face_ that he might as well be getting ready for a murder) to glare at Sawamura. ‘I, uh, came here to get my camera.’

Sawamura’s got this look in his eyes like that supervillain bird who let out the scariest fucking laugh Koutarou’s ever heard in his life when he got through that door in that one video. Sawamura’s got that _exact_ look in his eyes. Like he believes in no god, not even Gecko Tooru, and wants to turn everyone around him into an atheist like Kuroo, through the simple assholery of how his mind works. ‘The camera that Akaashi found, you mean?’

Koutarou glares harder. ‘Yes, that one.’

He turns back to the coffee table, and realizes that Sugawara’s been standing behind Akaashi all this time with...yeah, if that scary bird could smile he’d smile like Sugawara is smiling. They’re like this pair of terrifying parents, him and Sawamura, guarding over Akaashi who doesn’t really look like he needs guarding in the first place. Koutarou nods at Sugawara and fixes his eyes on Akaashi again.

Damn, but isn’t he _beautiful_. Even like this with his hair all swept and his cheeks all pink and his eyebrows all frowny, looking nothing like the sex machine Koutarou spent all of last night shooting. And then, and then Akaashi fucking stands and _looks up_ and that’s it. He might as well be called K.O. Tarou.

Since the beginning of this month when Akaashi started working at Vertigo, Koutarou hasn’t been able to speak to him once. Forget that, he’s never been looked at _in the eyes_ by the guy, and he kind of wishes that the first time didn’t have to be in front of his asshole friends, but he’ll take what he can get. And what he’s getting is pretty fucking killer. Dark eyes, dark eyebrows, and his lips are all tight but he could be sticking his tongue out at Koutarou for all he cares, because _those eyes_. _That face_. This _guy_.

‘Uh,’ Koutarou says.

He’s never even properly heard Akaashi’s voice, actually, just the occasional _this one is dedicated to Satsuki, Aomine and the boys say happy birthday_ which can’t really be heard over the music anyway. He sure hopes that he’ll survive this look long enough to _hear_ Akaashi cuss him out. Then he can truly die happy.

‘Hello,’ says Akaashi Keiji. Koutarou’s probably sporting five exclamation marks above his head by now.

Akaashi’s voice is probably the best voice Koutarou has ever heard in his life. Right up there with Himuro Tatsuya and that band of his that plays at _Le Petit Titty_ every Saturday and whoever sang the opening of _Ouran_. It’s all kind of smoky and soft and low but not too low and is basically the kind of shit Ushijima would write a sonnet for. He can _truly_ die happy.

‘Hello,’ he says.   _Don’t say something dumb. Don’t say anything with more than two syllables_. ‘Hi.’

‘So you are Bokuto-san. You work at Vertigo, correct?’

‘Yeah, that’s me. That guy. It’s me.’

There’s a long silence after that. Really long. Koutarou’s standing there like an idiot, Sawamura’s standing there like an asshole, Sugawara’s standing there like another asshole, and Akaashi’s standing there like the human version of a Black Keys song.

Then Akaashi speaks again. ‘Bokuto-san, you have one thousand three hundred and seventeen pictures of me on your device.’

‘Indeed. Indeed, that I do.’ Here it comes.

‘Well, firstly I am sorry to have intruded upon your privacy.’

Wait. What? ‘What?’

‘Since I already knew the camera was yours, it was only curiosity—’

‘You’re not mad at me?’ _DON’T INTERRUPT HIM_.

Akaashi goes _even more pink_. ‘Perhaps I was a little cross in the beginning.’

‘But you’re not anymore?’

Fucking cotton candy land. ‘Not...not really. I was just curious as to the...as to...I mean, why.’

Koutarou doubts that _I mean have you seen a mirror counts_ as an answer, so he just stands there clearing his throat and going ‘Well...’ until Akaashi takes some pity on him and shakes his head.

‘Actually, we’re headed to _Le Petit Onesie_ soon,’ he says. ‘Granrodeo are playing.’

Koutarou frowns. ‘Okay...I could be out of your hair, I’ll just take the cam—’

‘No,’ Akaashi says, and then he fucking _smiles_. ‘I mean, maybe you’d like to make your excuses there. Over coffee.’

●●●

Daichi, who has been observing the entire exchange buzzing with schadenfreude, lets out an honest-to-god bark of laughter. Koushi shoots him a look before turning his attention back to Bokuto.

‘Over...coffee?’ Bokuto repeats blankly. ‘The drink, coffee?’

It’s a shame that it’s too late to change viewing positions and Koushi’s stuck with seeing the back of Akaashi’s head, because it would be spectacular to see the expression that accompanies the tone of his voice when he says ‘Yes, the drink, coffee.’

‘Together? Like, you’ll be there and I’ll be there? At the same time?’

‘Yes, together. Unless you’d rather not—’

‘OH, I’D RATHER,’ Bokuto says, almost stepping forward in his excitement, and honestly, Koushi is surprised that he hadn’t caught onto this at all. Maybe if he paid attention to more things at parties than just the dance floor and what infernal drink Nishinoya wanted to have next… ‘HAVE. The drink. Coffee. Together. And explain myself.’

The back of Akaashi’s neck looks _sunburnt_. Koushi has never seen this before. ‘That’s...yes, that’s fine. I’ll just take my things and...we could go.’

Koushi mentally deducts himself and Daichi from this we because there is no way that they’re going to do anything beyond sitting at a different table and looking over to laugh. Akaashi is walking into this one with his eyes wide open; it can only get better from here.

And so he watches as Akaashi gathers up his laptop and packs it in his satchel, and he watches as reality dawns upon Bokuto. Then he watches Akaashi retie his shoe laces and Bokuto look like he does when someone says _pizza_. Then he watches as they walk towards the door and turn around to look at him and Daichi questioningly.

‘We’ll be there in a bit,’ Daichi says, waving them off.

So Koushi watches as Bokuto opens the door for Akaashi and slinks out after one last incredulous look to the heavens. Then he watches the door close. Then he looks at Daichi and watches the delight on his visage. Then he sees Daichi’s gaze shift and focus on something behind him, and watches that delight turn to absolute mirth.

Then he turns around to look at the object, and watches it incredulously while Daichi wheezes in the background.

The camera is on the kitchen counter, untouched and forgotten.

●●●

 **Me [18:40]**  
ur in luck i’d lost my cam but i’ll have it back now we can do the shoot soon

 **Snoogums-Boogums [18:42]**  
How is that ‘in luck’? I don’t want to do your stupid shoot.

 **Me [18:42]**  
bubble butt

 **Me [18:42]**  
bubble bubble bubble butt

 **Snoogums-Boogums [18:42]**  
I didn’t say I WON’T do it, you limpid abomination.

 **Me [18:42]**  
lov u too kei

 

 **Honeybunch [19:00]**  
Daichi told me a whole bunch of things

 **Honeybunch [19:00]**  
Come over we are going to talk

 **Me [19:01]**  
i’m reaching we r not talking right now i have a special guest w me

 **Honeybunch [19:01]**  
Yes I know I’ll get y’all ice cream on the house

 **Me [19:02]**  
I LOV U

 **Me [19:02]**  
btw i finally got the other kid 2 agree w the shoot

 **Me [19:03]**  
think u’ll like him y’all gonna look gr8 together

 **Honeybunch [19:04]**  
Looking forward to it. I met a cute kid in the morning too, he lives in your block

 **Me [19:04]**  
rlly??

 **Honeybunch [19:05]**  
Yeah he was really cute. I nicked his headphones tho

 **Me [19:08]**  
kuroo.

 **Me [19:08]**  
wat.

 **Honeybunch [19:09]**  
Yeah man it was hilarious you should’ve seen his face

 

Koutarou holds the door of the cafe open for Akaashi, still staring at his phone. As the sounds of one of Granrodeo’s songs reach his ears, he realizes that there is _shit_ and then there is _deep_ _shit_ and then there is a category that he must invent for this right here.

But then Akaashi turns back and raises his eyebrows, smiling just a bit again, and Koutarou stops caring about anything else and smiles back, head going ‘round and ‘round with the smell of summer air and his fantastic luck.

He follows.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/soldierpoetking) and [Tumblr](http://sturlsons.tumblr.com).


End file.
